


Not Good Enough

by Resoan



Series: Drabbles, Requests, and Memes [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/pseuds/Resoan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas and Lavellan have broken things off, though she confronts him upon her return to Skyhold from Crestwood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Good Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt, "Sad Kiss."

Lavellan lost count of the days as she returned to Skyhold: they all seemed to blur together after everything that had happened in Crestwood; fighting was a mere reflex, though she didn’t find much to impede her path - save for a few wandering bandits. That first fight had successfully released the brunt of her anger, and her fury had rained down upon them in countless thunderbolts despite the sunny sky and lack of cloud coverage overhead.

Several people greeted her when she finally appeared in Skyhold again, though she was unsurprised that Solas was not among them; he had undoubtedly hidden himself away in the rotunda to be alone with his paints and his books, though if he thought she would simply  _leave him be_  after the ordeal he’d incited within her, he was in for a rude awakening.

By the time she reached the main corridor and paused outside of Solas’s door, however, all the fight had drained from her; the only positive to come out of coming back to Skyhold alone was the time to think, to cool off, and all she felt now was a depression that settled like a rock in her gut: one that would not move or abate no matter what she may have tried.

Even so, she would meet him: would hear what he had to say, if anything, and see what came of it; nothing could make her feel worse in that moment - what did she truly have to lose? Solas peered back towards her when he heard the door open, though his face, while not utterly expressive, remained strangely impassive: undoubtedly a facade to hold her at arm’s length, to keep her from peering too far and seeing whatever it was he feared she would see. 

"Inquisitor." Even his greeting was banal, toneless and coldly polite. 

"Why?" She looked unflinchingly into his eyes, though saw only more questions - no answers. "You cannot simply break things off with no explanation. I’m not going to believe you did so without a reason, so let’s hear it." Her arms crossed over her chest then, perhaps in something of a defensive pose, though he seemed wholly unfazed.

"The answers would lead only to more questions, I’m afraid." The answer merely made Lavellan want to tear out her hair in frustration. _That’s not **good**  enough!_ She wanted to shout at him, but her fire was all but gone: dampened like the ground after a good, thorough soaking rain. He did not move away, however, and perhaps that was why her hand reached for his tunic and latched on, expression torn between anger and anguish. 

It was not a  _kiss_ , not truly; it was a catharsis for her frustrations and misunderstandings, and while Solas did not respond, he did not violently reel back either. He understood it was what she needed, though she dropped her hold on him and pulled back, eyes lackluster and lips pursed into a thin line. She rounded on her heel and left the room without so much as a word, though her steps were not hurried; Solas frowned at her retreating back, and not for the first time, began to silently hate his own decisions.


End file.
